Harry Potter and Death's Superior
by YvonneTheOneAndNoOther
Summary: There is nothing worse than death Dumbledore! snarled Voldemort.You are quite wrong, said Dumbledore, Indeed your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness. So what IS worse than death?
1. Shredded Bliss

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, objects, locations or spells of the Harry Potter franchise that appear in this fan fiction story. It is all the property of the greatest author in the world, J.K Rowling

Author's note: Hey everyone who's reading this fanfic! Firstly, thanks for clicking on it and secondly, I hope you enjoy it which I have no doubt you will ;)! Chapter updates will come at an average of once a week so stay tuned!

Chapter One: Shredded Bliss

Dusk had just descended upon the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The Sun glowed a stunning crimson as it serenely crawled beyond the hilly horizon. Residents had retreated into the warm interiors of their imperfectly oblong homes as the chilly evening wind began creeping through the trees at the edge of the village. It was towards a curiously stumpy, yet rather dignified looking outcrop of land that the very old and worn looking cathedral stood. The paint on the outside was peeling so badly that it seemed that the whole building had been raked by a giant farmer. The windows hung miserably on their hinges, groaning pathetically every time a gust of wing blew their way. Tangles of ivy and weeds clambered up the walls of the first storey, some even succeeding in crashing through a dust choked window. Anyone passing by this abysmally mundane excuse for architecture would walk on, not giving a care in the world about what it was still doing there. Yet, on this particularly Tuesday evening, utter cacophony raged inside.

"FRED! GEORGE! I thought I told you two to get rid of all these pygmy pasties two hours ago! You savages KNOW Fleur's allergic to them!"

"Mum, they're pygmy _puffs_ not pasties! And we already swept them all up. _And_ double-checked the place!"

"Oh is that right? What's this thing then- Aaaarghh!"

Molly Weasley shrieked and leapt onto a stool as a nastily fat rat shot out from under a sunken floorboard. Her cheeks were flushed red and beads of sweat were framing her plump face. She was scanning the rest of the floor very intensely before going back to standing on when a whole parade of seven people burst through the double-oak doors into the room.

"Mum, what happened? Why did you scream?" asked an incredulous looking Ginny, panting and clutching her chest.

"Oh, gosh it was nothing everyone, really. Just a rat." replied Molly, her face already starting to turn the colour of her hair.

"A rat? Here? And here I thought we'd done a good job! Vakrooms were supposed to be held in high esteem by muggles.", grumbled Arthur Weasley casting a very disdainful look over the paneled floor.

"Aw come on dad, don't tell us you actually used that monstrosity? It sounded like the ghoul in our attic developed a snorting fit or something!" cried Ron as Fred, George and Harry doubled up in silent convulsions of laughter at Mr. Weasley's almost comical expression of forlornness.

"Actually Mr.Weasley, I think….it's pronounced-" choked Harry, but Hermione cut in.

"Oh Harry no one cares how it's pronounced! The wedding starts in an hour and we really can't be clowning at a time like this!

"Yes, yes she's right boys. I think it's time we got back to what we were all assigned to do. Oh and think you're finished do you? Well there are a couple of toilets upstairs that I do feel are in dire need of a good _scrubbing._" She added wiping the satisfied smirks off Fred and George's faces.

"What, no magic?"

Ever since the unofficial last day of school at Hogwarts, the entire Weasley family plus Harry and the Delacour family had been up to their necks in wedding plans and arrangements. Even despite the utterly devastating previous months, what with horrific injuries and also a crude death, Fleur Delacour did not wish to postpone her marriage to Bill Weasley. To her, it was pointless to avoid something that was inevitable. To her, if there was one thing that could lighten everyone's moods during such a despondent period, it was a wedding. And a wedding she was just an hour away from having. Her superficial demeanor had somewhat evaporated throughout the course of this period. In fact, it had been her who had managed to shake Molly Weasley out of a very depressing reverie. This almost surreal optimism had suddenly shimmered out of nowhere and had cast as much a light-hearted mood as everyone could ever muster. No one even called her Phlegm these days.

"Ah! Molly, zees ees exactly 'ow I wanted you to look!" she cried throatily as she floated into the hall. "You look seemply breathtaking!"

Even with patches of dust on her cheeks and slight creases on her dress, that was a closely accurate description of how Mrs Weasley looked. She wore a pale emerald chiffon gown with a matching pearl necklace and earrings. The curls on her head had been softened so that they elegantly hugged her face. All the stress of the past two years had, in effect, even taken some bulk off of her; so much so that even Fred and George said she was pretty.

"Oh dear, thank you. I've never really worn anything quite like this before. You really must thank your father for me, I would never have even anticipated for a moment…the gifts…Gosh I promised myself I wouldn't cry…" she sniffed and clumsily dabbed away at her eyes so as to not aggravate her mascara.

"Oh come now, Molly, if you don't cry today I'd eat my ring! And I love my ring!"

"Well, anyway, the bride can't be walking around at a time like this. You've got to go prepare yourself. You might get dust on your clothes for sanity's sake!" piped Mrs Weasley, gently shoving Fleur back up the stairs that led up to the bride's parlour. "Oh, and is Bill doing fine by himself? Are you sure he doesn't need me to-"

"Oh yes 'ee ees fine Molly, just as excited as moi!." "I'll take good care of him for you." She added after sensing the concern in Molly's voice.

Over in the dining hall, Harry, Ron and Hermione were just about done setting up the china and silverware manually, as were Mrs Weasley's orders.

"By hand, what was she thinking? It isn't like this damn china, or whatever they call it is fragile is it?" groaned Ron as he got confused between the stake knife and the butter knife for the fifth time.

"Um actually Ron china is incredibly-" started Hermione before Harry interjected.

"It isn't the china Hermione. Ron's just depressed over the lost cause."

"Lost cause, what're you-"Ron whined just before a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "Crikey Harry I'm happy for her alright? She's getting married, and to my brother Bill, what more could I possibly want?" he cried trying to look cheered but ending up shattering a glass on the floor instead. Hermione hurriedly vanished the remains.

It had been just like this with the three of them the whole month. Not once had either of them mentioned the foreboding task that lay ahead in Harry's life. They all knew it had to be faced but none of them wanted to face it. At least not then, when everyone was just starting to feel a little happier. Harry had been constantly trying to brush the thought aside whenever it cropped up in his mind, but usually to no avail. He knew the time would come when he simply had to think things through, but now was just not it. It just wasn't.

Harry was just furiously scrutinizing the back of a china plate, to get the thoughts of his future out of his mind, when Mr. Weasley's calls rang out.

"Everyone! Hurry here, the wedding's about to begin!"

There was momentary disorientation as a crowd of close to fifty people burst through the double-oak doors and into the main hall. Together with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley there were also Hagrid, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Charlie Weasley, Gabrielle Delacour, Professor McGonagall, other members of the order and even Percy. It seemed not even family tiffs could keep them away from this wedding. Everyone got comfortably seated and the festivity then began.

It was Bill who entered the hall first. At first glance, he looked exactly the same, with his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, the fang-shaped earring still where it had always been and the same boyish grin which had been what drew Fleur to him in the first place. As he marched up the aisle, the grisly reminders of his feverish battle grew clearer. There was a deep gash right across his left eye, which meant that he could no longer see through it. There was also a large gaping would on his chin and most of his left eyebrow had been shredded off. Although he walked with a heavy limp, the air of dignity that emanated from him so naturally was praiseworthy. As he passed his mother, he gave her a wink, which immediately sent her into waves of sobs into her husbands shoulder.

Fleur arrived next and almost with an unearthly brilliance too. Her gown was a brilliant white and seemed to give off a breathtaking silvery glow all by itself. Her long blonde hair swept out beautifully from behind her and danced to its own rhythm with her every step. Her petite face gleamed with a radiance from within her soul and her smile was so infectious, every soon began smiling as well. Most so was Ron who began drooling so ferociously that Hermione had to slap him thrice.

The stocky priest at the front of the altar muttered a long prayer in a monotone and yet everyone remained transfixed at the image before them. Fleur Delacour, wedding a man mauled by a wolf, when a mere year ago she would not even have dared to stand in the shadow of one. Finally, with a kiss, they were wed.

A raucous dinner party followed soon after with heaps of mince pies, chicken legs, chocolate gateau and treacle tarts. Dr, Filibuster's fireworks ripped through the room ricocheting off the walls and exploding into a pandemonium of colour, lights and sound. A perfect end to a perfect day.

Just as Bill and Fleur were about to leave on a rose-coloured specially honeymoon designed broomstick, Fleur threw her bouquet her flowers backwards into the crowd.

Hermione caught it. She giggled and waved at the pair. Standing right next to her, blushing furiously, was Ron.


	2. Bloody thing called Love

The mood in the Weasley household had astonishingly died down incredibly quickly after the wedding. For the past several weeks all that had been on everyone's minds had been the wedding, the wedding… the wedding. Now that the wedding was over, they were all desperately searching for a joy to anticipate; hope to cling on to. Each of them shielded their bottomless sense of foreboding with a flimsy facade of cheer.

They knew a first step had to be taken, but the question was where? In which direction?

Harry had sullenly left The Burrow immediately on the day following the marriage. His seventeenth birthday was approaching too fast for comfort, and although the dread had already seeped into his brain and was threatening to throw him off the edge, Harry had no choice but to do as Dumbledore had instructed. Harry could almost hear Dumbledore's calm, unruffled tone as he recalled him explaining it to the Dursleys, that day he had called in at Number 4.

"This magic will cease to operate the moment Harry turns seventeen; in other words, the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

Harry could not seem to grasp the logic behind this absurd order. How the obnoxious, self-centered Dursleys who loathed Harry to the ultimate, had ever or could ever play a role in protecting him. Sure, Petunia was his mother's sister, but she sure as heck did not behave like it. What was the point in proclaiming love as a shield if it was hardly less flimsy than Dobby's own tea-cosy? Where was the reasoning behind wearing love so proudly as a badge, when it was so hollow; so uselessly void? He was loved a great deal more here at The Burrow, where all the Weasleys' affection put together could have far surpassed what Petunia's blood could have ever offered him in terms of protection.

Harry was stabbing absent-mindedly at his scrambled eggs thinking off the endless abyss of misery that lay ahead of him, when Ron slumped into the kitchen, in a brand new, yet horribly creased pair of Chudley Canons pajamas, announcing his arrival with a massive yawn. His flaming red hair stuck out at odd angles and a bump was clearly visible on his forehead, from when he had rolled off his bed the night before. He noticed Harry's grim expression and shuffled into a chair next to him.

"Mornin' mate. Some dinner last night eh? I could barely lift myself off the bed". Harry just grunted.

"-And this weird lump on my head", he frowned, gingerly rubbing his forehead. "No idea how it got there. Think it might have been Fred and George's doing. What d'you reckon, Harry?" Harry just grunted again. Ron sighed heavily.

"Look mate, this is hard on everyone. We're hating this as much as you are. No one wants you to-"

"What was that? Hating it as much as me, did I hear? I'm the one who's got to bloody well go off and stay with the damned Dursleys again, while the rest of you get to be all together, happy and not locked up in some blasted excuse for a bedroom, without a single bloody soul to talk to!" Harry cried, not realizing that he had stood up and had tightened his grip around his fork.

"Harry, calm down mate, you're gonna wake every-"

"You really haven't got a single clue about how it feels like to live with them do you? Year after year I have to go back and for what? I don't get treated like their nephew, heck I don't even get treated like a bloody human! And what's the reason for going back this time? So their pathetic LOVE is going to keep me from being murdered? They don't love me, they never did and they never will!" Harry had been careful not to raise his voice too much; unwanted attention was the last thing he needed right out. He steadied his breath and slowly sat back down. He turned to Ron with the most seriousness Ron has ever seen.

"Dumbledore ordered me to go back there and I don't really have a choice. But what I can't understand is why I have to. If it's my mother's blood that's flowing in their veins it sure as hell doesn't seem like it." He paused and looked at the floor, as thought weighing what he wanted to say next.

"Honestly, I don't know how much more time any of us still have with one another. It would only take a flick of a wand for one of us to die- and we all know that. Leaving for the Dursleys', might just be a huge mistake and God knows what could happen in those three weeks. They definitely won't let me have Hedwig flying around delivering letters or even the _Prophet_. It's going to be the nightmare of two years ago all over again."

There was a long silence after he said this, during which both he and Ron stared thoughtfully at Mrs. Weasley's new collection of china. Ron could not help but agree to what Harry had just heaved off of his chest. Nothing was predictable; the least expected tragedy could spring up put of nowhere and stab anyone from behind. He had to face it. Lord Voldemort had eliminated all possible obstacles so nothing stood in the way of him and Harry anymore. The thought cruelly punctured Ron's very soul.

"How're you going to do it though?" Ron finally asked, after five whole minutes of silence. "How're you going to find all those horcruxes and, you know, get him?" There was a note of caution in his voice, as though he were trying to avoid another blast, and also a tone of sincere concern; one only a best friend could convey.

Harry frowned deeply as a new wave of emotion rose in him. He could not quite put his finger on whether it was fear or despondency. The nagging reality that he had no one to completely guide his way anymore, frankly scared him. The Weasleys' would undoubtedly be there for him where it came to emotional support, but how much could they help in the tedious, manipulative search and ultimate destruction of one horcrux, let alone four others. No, Harry corrected himself. It was not four more horcruxes, it was five. The one that remained inside Voldemort himself would have to be destroyed as well. Sirius had gone too, and though, if he had still been alive, he would still be living in hiding, the encouragement he could have given Harry may have been completely reputable. The death of Dumbledore, was however, what raked at Harry's emotions so vociferously. The way he had artfully managed to pinpoint the exact location of where the horcrux, although fake, was hidden and how he gained access to almost invisible cave, merely by mumbling to himself and touching the walls here and there, deeply overwhelmed Harry, as much as it terrified him. There was no way he could be that ingenious in figuring out where secret locations lay. He was not a mastermind. He was just a sixteen year old boy, barely able to grasp the magnitude of what he was going to have to face.

"I don't know, Ron.", he answered and upon seeing the dejection in his best friend's eyes, he added. "I will find a way though, Ron. It needs to happen. It's a prophecy after all."

Mr. Weasley had suggested that Harry was reaching the Dursleys' via the Knight Bus.

"They'll be guarding every Floo Network in the world with insanely incriminating eyes. You'd have to be put through all sorts all garbage checks. I heard there's a new inspector in London who's supposed to be a specialist at nervousness scans."

"Thanks Mr. Weasley I really appreciate the tip." Harry nodded, heaving his trunk over to the sidewalk.

"It's no problem, Harry m'boy. Is that all then? You sure you haven't left anything behind?"

"Gosh Dad, you're starting to sound like mum!" Ron chortled as he walked towards the roadside with Hermione, who was very tearful. Seeing Harry standing by his things, quite obviously trying to hide his disappointment in departure, totally broke her heart. She jerked her hand out of Ron's and ran towards Harry, hugging him so hard that he almost keeled over onto a stray chicken.

"Oh do b-be careful w-won't you Harry? I p-promise we'll write to you every d-day!" she cried in into his shoulder in between sobs. If anyone was as upset as Hermione, it was Ginny. She avoided looking at him and kept staring at her feet, as though willing for time to go faster. Harry sensed her aloofness but stopped himself from saying anything to her. Now was not the time to accentuate his sore mood.

"If there's anything you need Harry dear, anything at all, we'll be here for you. Just remember that, darling.", whispered Mrs. Weasley as he moved in to hug Harry too. After a very tearful farewell, Harry turned and waved his hand awkwardly out into the street. Very suddenly, though the headlights were not as glaring in broad daylight, the arrival of bright purple Knight Bus was unmistakable. It screeched to a halt right before Harry and when the doors jumped open, Harry was greeted by four very heavy set Ministry doormen.

"Where to?", one grunted.

"Number four Privet Drive. It's a muggle town", he added at the incredulous on their faces. They nodded curtly and stepped back to allow Harry in. He turned once more and waved at the Weasleys and Hermione, who was, by the time sobbing very uncontrollably. Even Ron's eyes seemed to have reddened.

"See you soon, mate", he waved and the purple doors banged shut.


	3. What was he to expect,inside for so long

A/N: Yes, this was updates sooner than expected wasn't it? Well, it's a Sunday and what better to do on a Sunday than grab a hot latte, lean back on your bedpost and let your barrage of ideas flow onto the Microsoft screen in front of you. PS keep those reviews coming, guys, that's what keeps me going most of the time.

The Knight Bus had undergone a tremendous change since the last time Harry had been in it and that was almost two years ago. The air of haphazardness and chaotic liberty that was so customary in the Knight Bus seemed to have been sucked up into complete nothingness by some rare, immutable force. Stan Shunpike was, as Harry had miserably recalled the moment he had laid eyes on the four burly Ministry doormen, still detained in Azkaban on the most ridiculous charges Harry had ever heard of. As he cautiously stepped into the interior of the Knight Bus, just like he had done on his first time on it four years back, he had to actually suppress a gasp upon seeing what had become of it now.

Totally gone were the jumbled arrays of creased, unmade beds, their sheets hanging loosely on their posts and the cluttered mess of crammed chairs and tables. The scene before Harry was instead, very neat and tidy and not a single object had been displaced. He then saw, with a mild shudder, what was keeping everything in their places. Large grey iron locks had been strongly attached to the legs of the tables and the chairs, forcing them almost brusquely into position. Towards the rear of the bus, black twisting iron shackles were pinning four beds to the ground by their posts. If that wasn't enough, the brass bedsteads had been recoloured to grey and the sheets were a mundane off-white. The curtains (which were now also a pale tinge of grey) had also been uncharacteristically drawn shut, casting a depressing gloom over the entire place. There was only one passenger on the first deck and he was sitting with his knees and palms together, staring out the window, which was shut. Like finishing touches to this view of dreariness, the doormen stood aside to let Harry by, their hands by their side and their faces expressionless. As Harry was wondering if he should break the silence by asking where he should go, the burliest and oldest-looking of the four doormen addressed him.

"You're Harry Potter aint'cha?" He was a man of great bulk, with night-black hair, although wisps of white were visible near his forehead and his ears. His eyes were a deep brown, almost black and a broad black beard sat proudly on his prominent, paunchy chin. The buttons on the black ministry uniform on him seemed on the verge of bursting. He looked vaguely familiar, but Harry did not care about that just then. Although his question came as a steely whisper, the thick Scottish accent was distinctive.

"Y-yes sir. Yes I am." Harry answered, not realizing why he had stammered, but this thought had been cut short as he realized for the first time in thirty seconds, that the bus was moving. It was totally unlike regular Knight Bus standards, there was no loud _BANG_ as it zoomed suddenly to its next location. _The bus isn't even speeding,_ Harry thought, because he was strangely able to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground.

"Why in the name of burtlap are ye' goin to a muggle town then?", the man inquired again with one bristling black eyebrow raised. The two men nearest to him, with startling vulture-like appearances, looked down at Harry questioningly, almost loathingly.

"Leave him alone Wally, he don't want any of your rubbish just now.", grumbled the fourth doorman as he put out an arm between Harry and his fat colleague and started picking up Harry's things. This man was the smallest of all four of them and undoubtedly the youngest. Harry could sense the other three, especially Wally, looking down at him with utmost contempt. From the look on Wally's face, Harry could tell that he wanted nothing more than to bash his little pipsqueak face in.

"C'mon now, Potter. Your quarter's that way." He muttered to Harry and casting a final look of disdain on his fellows he led Harry right to the very rear of the bus.

"Oh rubbish is it, Flooce, you wretched ingrate? Mind you, my daughter died last week. I'll never forget that you know. She never wanted any o' this. No one did!" roared Wally so violently, that he had to be restrained by the vultures.

"Well that was because no one asked her to go ahead and stupidly start that damned charity drive! She was asking for trouble right from the start you fool!". This was the last straw for the fuming Scot. He wrenched his massive arms free from the gaping vultures and charged towards Flooce with a great bellow. Flooce, looked oddly unperturbed and drew his wand, swiftly but discreetly from his trouser pocket. Before Harry could shout out a yell of warning to either of the men, the collision came. A jet of glaring red light struck Wally right in the chest. He opened his mouth sluggishly but his black eyes rolled backwards into his head and he keeled over backward. He fell on the floor with a great thud.

Harry was standing, open-mouthed at the revelation of the insanity that had just occurred before his eyes. One moment, they were all distinguished Ministry officials and the next they were reckless fiends. Even the quiet passenger seated by the window had leapt to his feet, his eyes open wide.

"What in the _world _was that about?" Harry asked Flooce urgently as the vulture doormen tried frantically to raise Wally to a sitting position. Flooce merely signed and beckoned Harry to the top decks of the bus with a jerk of his head.

The third storey was just as dreary-looking as the first. The iron locks and shackles had not spared even the beds and chairs here. Flooce brought Harry over to a corner and flew two plastic chairs over. His lips were pursed and Harry could see that he was mulling over his actions and what he was going to say next. He breathed heavily and looked straight at Harry.

"I'm sure you were pretty shocked when you first stepped inside this thing eh?. Yes I was too-" he added abruptly when Harry tried to speak.

"I really didn't want this crummy job, really didn't. But I had no choice, see, my wife was killed by one of them death eaters." He paused, bit his bottom lip and continued.

"She used to work in St.Mungo's until the whole dirty lot blasted the place up. Lots of enemies in there, see, recovering from attacks from that rotten side. Just wanted to get rid of anyone weak while they could I guess." Harry stared at him dumbfounded, not daring to believe what he had just heard. _St.Mungo's was destroyed? How come he hadn't heard of it? How come Mr. Weasley hadn't informed anyone?_ As he thought of Mr. Weasley, he remembered when he had been admitted there two years ago. There he'd seen Gilderoy Lockhart and….._the Longbottoms,_ Harry remembered with a pang.

"I couldn't be keeping the kids that way so I had to get myself another job, see? Came straight here when I saw the ad in the _Prophet._ Well anyway-", Flooce made a great effort in composing himself before he continued.

" Wally needed cash to get by too. I did the interview with him. See, the reason he's so upset with you Potter, is because…Because his daughter died while trying to help you. Really, all sorts of odd things've been cropping up lately, we just dunno what to expect do we? She stared some idiot charity drive, so she could- fund you I guess. The whole world's been tossed into madness, it really has. Wally just hates you for being part of it. Thinks you killed his only child. Course, I tried knocking some sense into him before, I'm the only one who stands up to that crude pain in the-"

But Harry was no longer listening. A girl had died while trying to set up funding, for him? As absurd as that seemed Harry could not help but think that his disbelief at all this might have been a result of stretching his stay at the Weasleys', so caught up in Bill and Fleur's wedding, that he hadn't even bothered to check on how everyone else was. Had the situation really changed _that_ much? St. Mungo's and the girl….

"Um, Flooce what did you say the girl's name was?"

"I didn't. The family name's Vane, if you're interested."

The journey to Privet Drive had taken longer than expected. When they finally, reached there, Flooce called Harry down from the first floor. Harry's mind was reeling, yet he could not grasp the insane impossibility of what Flooce had told him. He dragged his feet down the stairs, his forehead creased and his face, very white.

"Take care of yourself, Potter. We're all behind you in this, even Wally, although I know he don't act like it." Flooce assured Harry as he gently lowered his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the deserted sidewalk. Harry could just catch a glimpse of Wally's wide form behind Flooce, taking up two entire beds for himself. With a firm, one-fingered salute, Flooce shut the door. The Knight Bus soon disappeared into the fading sunset.

Harry just drudged on the perfectly aligned sidewalk, passing the all too familiar square homes of Magnolia Crescent. His mind was hardly on where he was headed, although his feet had seen this area too many times to go in the wrong direction. His thoughts were churning wildly, tossing from fear to fear like a splintering raft over a tumultuous sea. His better judgement was desperately trying to acquire a reasonable answer to all of this, but it could not. _Romilda Van couldn't have died. She just couldn't. There was no way…._ The heaviness of his heart grew worse as he saw the familiar white sign "No.4". There was nothing he wanted less right now than scornful attitudes and a measly dinner. The black abyss he was so afraid of falling into had just inched nearer.

He arrived on the doorstep of the Dursley's and more grudgingly than he had even felt in his life, he knocked. He could hear the faint tinkling of glass and the dragging of a chair across the floor. It was probably going to be Uncle Vernon who answered the door, with a tender piece of beef hanging from his moustache and quivering with rage because Harry had chosen dinner time to pay them a nice three week visit. The greeting he really got was nothing like he's imagined.

Petunia cautiously opened the door a fraction and upon seeing Harry, she threw it wide open and beckoned him inside with a beam. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were calmly standing by the foot of the staircase and politely greeted Harry with a "How've you been boy" and "Had a nice summer, Harry?" Whether these greetings sounded forced or not, Harry did not care. The Dursleys were actually being nice to him, greeting him at the door and asking about his welfare, for the first time in seventeen years.

"Dinner's ready for you, Harry. You look starved." Petunia said with a tone of care in her voice that Harry had never heard her use on him before. She passed his trunk to Dudley and told him to bring it upstairs to his cousin's room. Dudley complied, with not so much as a grunt of protest. Had the death eaters gotten to them too?

"W-what's going on with all of you? You feeling alright?" Harry blurted out, unable to contain his incredulity at what was going on.

"We're fantastic Harry, now hurry up, your dinner will go cold.", said Petunia as she gently pushed Harry into the kitchen. From the corner of his eye, he saw her give Uncle Vernon a brief nod. He immediately picked up Hedwig's cage and followed Dudley into Harry's room. Harry could not make out the expression on his face.


	4. Whole truths

Author's note: I'm sorry for the lag time, very unlike me isn't it? Hope you guys have been keeping up alright till now. Oh yes BIG NEWS, I've just enabled the anonymous review option so you're all free to make your comments. No flames pretty please, you can criticize but be constructive about it. See you next week!

"Pass the butter please Dudley."

"Sure. Dad, are you done with the butter?

"Yes, of course boy, here you go."

Thanks."

"How would you boys like your eggs today?"

"Sunny side up please, mum."

"Ah, not for me Petunia, I've got to look good for the meeting with the executives."

"And you, Harry?"

"Er…scrambled please."

Every morning since Harry's return to Privet Drive had been just like this. Cheery greetings, generous breakfasts and the Dursleys talking to him like he was no longer something smelly that a possum dragged in. Harry's first few days back had been inexplicably bizarre for him. Not knowing how to respond to the Dursleys sudden new found kindness towards him, he had just gone with the flow and talked to them with the same politeness and on hand friendliness.

The breakfast table was set beautifully with an orange chrysanthemum standing in a half filled glass of water. Vernon, Dudley and Harry each had a glass of orange juice and a plate piled with bacon, toast and baked beans. Petunia had even taken the liberty of folding their napkins into various shapes; Harry's was curiously shaped like a pointed hat.

Harry had not asked the Dursleys about their reformed behaviour, partially because he was afraid that they would take offense and go back to treating him like dirt. He couldn't imagine for the world what could have completely changed the Dursleys like that. Was it perhaps the fact that Dumbledore had died? Or was it because some of the Order had threatened them into being nice? _Or maybe_, Harry had thought with a twinge of fear, _it's because I'm going to leave them a week and have no real reason to want to come back. They're just being nice because they're so elated that I'm leaving them._ He was shocked to find himself slightly disappointed by this revelation, for he had once or twice even formed the impossible possibility that the Dursleys were somewhat, atoning. _No, don't be ridiculous, they hate me and always will._ Yet somehow, his heart leapt when Vernon Dursley had invited him to play a game of scrabble.

Ron and Hermione had been, just as they had promised, sending Harry letters almost every day. By the astounding turn of events, Vernon Dursley had lifted his ban on Hedwig having to be perpetually locked in her cage as long as she was still in his house. He now did not even mind her soaring into the kitchen once in a while to nibble at someone's toast, even his own. They had just finished breakfast when Hedwig silently zoomed into the kitchen, landing gracefully on Harry's shoulder. A letter written in neat cursive lettering was clutched in her beak as was the Daily Prophet. She dropped it on Harry's lap and, upon seeing that there was no more food left for her, let out a very indignant, loud hoot. Vernon gave a start and Petunia shrieked and dropped the plates in the sink. Usually, Harry would have gulped and tried to escape as fast as he could, but this time, he just gave a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, she's just hungry."

"Yes, of course she is. I think there might be some raisins in the fridge if she'd like those." replied Vernon and went back to reading his paper. Petunia remained rigid for a while but quickly went back to washing the dishes.

Harry got the raisins for Hedwig and left the kitchen for his room, examining the letter in his hand. Besides Hermione's distinct handwriting, the rest of the envelope looked like it had been stamped on and embossed several times over. Large, black square letterings read "APPROVED" and "AUTHORIZED BY MOM". The Ministry of Magic seal had been embedded twice on both sides of the letter, in bright gold capitals. It also did not look as if much care had been taken in re-sealing the letter for all Harry had to do to pull out the parchment from inside was shake it upside down till it fell out.

_Dear Harry, _

_Hi again, hope you're doing as good as you were two days ago. Ron was thinking of calling with a telephone, but I didn't know how your aunt and uncle would take it. Then again, I realized that they're being nice and all that so I thought I'd just ask you instead._

_I hope you read the Prophet before reading this letter because that's the only way you'd be able to understand what I was talking about. As usual, I'm not allowed to say whatever I want to in this letter, so I hope you get the message. If you noticed the "bent bars" bit on page 2, I'm sure you'd come to the same conclusion as me when I first read it. So it's finally happening isn't it? What we've been speculating all along. Ron, Ginny and I talked to our greatest friend about it but the answer we got wasn't straight. All we were told was that it wasn't what we think and it was nothing to worry about. Of course, we beg to differ._

_So the big day's coming in a week and we feel it's about time we decided where you were going to go. Stay on where you are or come back with us? Ron's parents were thinking we should drop by where he died and see what's going to happen on September the first. _

_Best wishes,_

_Hermione and Ron_

_Ps: Ginny misses you an awful lot mate. I even caught her crying about it just yesterday. I think we'd all be happy if you came back. Cheers, Ron._

Harry immediately dove for the Prophet and noticed for the first time, its headlines. He choked on air.

"_Mass break-in at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- valuable items believed to be stolen._

_Ministry experts from the Breach of Magical Laws and Regulations department confirmed yesterday, that Britain's only wizarding institute, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has indeed been burglarized. Very valuable antiques, dark detectors and even portraits have been stolen from the edifice. According to now Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, "any enchantments or magical barriers that guard Hogwarts have not been lifted. In fact added magical precautions have even been blanketed around the school during this period of inactivity. Our gates have been secured shut using the most complex security enchantments and so have certain doors within Hogwarts. - "_

Harry instantly knew what she had meant by "certain doors". The door to the Room of Requirement that had allowed Draco Malfoy to communicate with the Death Eaters the whole of the last school year.

"_- Hogwarts School has remained inactive for the last month, owing to the very sudden and shocking death of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Whether or not, classes will resume on the first of September this year, McGonagall was not in composure to answer. Cont on p.2"._ Harry impatiently fumbled with the newspaper for a few seconds before he managed to flip it open.

_Ministry experts were called down immediately to Hogwarts when the alert was made by current caretaker, Argus Filch. Thorough searches revealed hardly a vestige of evidence pertaining to the person or persons responsible for this burglary. The only pieces of evidence located by Department Head, Boris Burke, were the bent bars on the main gate leading to Hogwarts as well as the head of one of the two gargoyles flanking the gates being severely chipped. "The only thing this shows", commented Mr. Burke," is that whoever broke into Hogwarts was either very strong or very big. And clumsy too."'_

The rest of the article merely went on to describe the incident involving Dumbledore's death and the debauchery that had ensued. _As if they hadn't highlighted it enough already,_ Harry thought bitterly. His thoughts immediately shifted to Hermione's letter. The bent bars on Hogwarts' main gates. The thought that instantaneously flickered on in Harry's mind seemed almost ridiculous to him yet feasible. Very feasible. Giants.

That night, Harry lay in bed, unable to drive the growing sense of dread and speculation out of his mind. How had the death eaters managed to get their hands on the giants? If even Hagrid and Madame Maxime, two people with the closest likeness to full blown giants, could not sway them, how did the death eaters, whose only weapons were dark magic- that which giants absolutely abhor- manage to? _They probably tortured them into it_, Harry thought. _But then again, what could be more torturous then being involved in one of those super-sized bloodbaths that Hagrid saw them get into?_ He shuddered to imagine.

His vision swam in and out of focus as his eyelids began to droop. He envisioned Golgomath ripping off Karkus's head, but having difficulties because the sinew on his neck was just too tough to rip out. Harry could hear Karkus trying to bargain his way out of death, his voice strangely calm and collected for someone almost losing his head.

"I never wanted to get involved in this in the first place……" Of _course he didn't, who'd like having their head torn off?_

"I swore to myself I was never going to say a word to the boy…." _Karkus thought Hagrid was a boy? How silly._

"But why, Petunia?" _Petunia? His name is Golgomath you stupid giant…_ Harry awoke with a start. He could hear muffled voices coming from the next room; no doubt they were Vernon's and Petunia's. He shook his head and blinked several times before quietly sliding off the bed. He crept over to the wall and pressed his ear to it.

"It was going to be just nods and grunts from then on. Oh don't give me that look Petunia; you saw how arrogantly the old geezer spoke to us. It was almost as if we were beneath him. Why I'd love to kick him beneath his-"

"Oh for mercy's sake, Vernon, you do realize he's dead don't you? The least you could do was show some respect-"

"Respect? Respect for _that _lot? Oh, I'm sorry Petunia but I lost all respect for that lot ever since he was dumped on our doorstep!" A loud thud reverberated off the walls.

"Hush Vernon please- he might wake up!"

"I didn't see you caring for the boy much, either Petunia. Why, wasn't it you who whacked him till he was sore the day he wore Dudley's old shirt to school? Wasn't it you who never bothered to give him proper meals? Not to mention I do believe he's from your side of the family!" The last word rang out very loudly and Harry actually jerked his ear away from the wall. His heart was pounding. It was a while before either of them spoke again.

"He w-won't be coming back here Vernon. I think it's only right that we give him a good sending off. W-we aren't savages, Vernon. We don't take pleasure in other people's pain. The boy lost his parents, his godfather, his headmaster and now even though it won't make much of a difference to him anyway- us. He may be abn- different Vernon, but he's human. He's got feelings and we've been destroying that for the past seventeen years. The least we could do is send him away with a smile." There was a pause after this after which Harry only heard the creaking of bedsprings.

So this was why the Dursleys were being so doting. Petunia had been enlightened, to say the most, about the fact that this was the last time she would ever see her nephew again. Her nasty, rude, rebel of a nephew but a nephew she had taken care of for seventeen whole years nonetheless. He was the last link she had left to her dead sister, the last blood channel that she had with the Potters and he was leaving them for good. It is said that no matter how much you despise family, that part of your heart will never be replaced by someone else.

Harry did not know if he should feel touched or sickened by what he just heard. The fact that Vernon and Dudley being so warm towards him had all been part of a charade, riled him as much as Petunia admitting that she honestly cared, moved him. He sat on his bed and watched Hedwig devour a dead tree frog, while contemplating. After a few minutes of brooding, Harry got up and searched for some parchment and a quill on his cluttered desk. He sat down and began to write.

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_Let's go back to Hogwarts_

_Harry._


End file.
